


once more, before it's over

by erimentary



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erimentary/pseuds/erimentary
Summary: He really loves it, how the moon illuminates only the parts that they want others to see. How the moon keeps stolen glances and brushing hands in the comfort of the dark. Keeping their hearts blanketed in warm light, so only they could revel in each other’s presence.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	once more, before it's over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookinateaspoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookinateaspoom/gifts), [aclashofqueens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aclashofqueens/gifts), [dscombobulate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dscombobulate/gifts), [stellarlilies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarlilies/gifts).



> I haven't written in forever, and this is my first foray in the ATLA fandom. No proofreading has been done, so I apologize for any mistakes (there's bound to be some). It's very short, as my single brain cell cannot keep up with all the wonderful fanworks for Zutara Week.

In the final hours of the night, the moon shines over them, silent in its observation.

He loves it, how the moon creates the time and space for them to thrive and just be.

And so, when he looks at her, he looks at her like she is the moon, beautiful and gleaming, her blue eyes representing the kind of gravity he wants to succumb into. When he finds the moon reflected in her eyes, not quite full, Zuko wonders if maybe he is dreaming all of this up—just the moonlight ushering in sleep and immersing him in lucid fantasies. While the ending is imminent and unforgiving, he still marvels at the fact that she is here, calm and gentle and just a little shorter than he remembers.

“Zuko—” She starts quietly, but pauses as soon as his name escapes her lips, her thoughts not quite able to keep up with her voice.

“The wedding—”

“It’s all good.”

“I see.”

The air around them is heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises.

If they were to converse again, he knows that it would not be about what they’ve always wanted to say, or what they have secretly wanted to talk about. Because he can never ask, and she can never answer. So they sit quietly, staring out into the sea, their shoulders not quite touching but are speaking in volumes that almost sends a shiver down his spine.

He really loves it, how the moon illuminates only the parts that they want others to see. How the moon keeps stolen glances and brushing hands in the comfort of the dark. Keeping their hearts blanketed in warm light, so only they could revel in each other’s presence.

And it keeps.

And _she_ keeps.

She holds out her hand.

And _she keeps._

His heart.

Once more, before it’s over.

\---

The sun starts to cast its first rays in the sky, peeking over the horizon ever so slowly, and yet Katara feels like it’s all too fast. She hates it, how the sun seems to take their time away.

And yet she looks at him like he is the sun, inviting in his warmth, his seemingly endless golden irises looking back at her with so much unspoken passion. She suspects she might have dreamed this all up—the sun causing visions of things that can never be. But blinding as he is, her right hand on his left cheek tells her everything she needs to know—for just a little while longer, he is here, definite and unrelenting and just a little taller than she remembers.

Her thumb travels to caress his scar, uneven in tone and feeling but familiar and comforting. She can feel him lean into her touch, and suddenly, her gentle touch transforms into something more desperate, both hands now trying to remember as much of his face as they can, almost afraid that her eyes would forget.

“Katara,” he manages to breathe out, raspy and equally desperate.

She really hates it, how the sun burns so brightly, inviting and warm and comforting, indiscriminate in illuminating—even the things they do not want anyone else to see. How the sun always takes away the comfort of secrecy and darkness in which they’ve thrived in. Taking away a part of her as it burns, reminding her that all of this, whatever _this_ is, is borrowed.

And it takes.

And _he_ takes.

He kisses her.

And _he_ _takes._

Her heart.

Once more, before it’s over.

**Author's Note:**

> For Dee, Pia, Sara, and Tin. We named a star after Zutara! :D


End file.
